Enter the_ KING OF VALENTIA, ANSELMO, RODERIGO, LORD BORACHIUS, _with others_.
KING OF VALENTIA. Enough of music; it but adds to torment. Delights to vexed spirits are as dates Set to a sickly man, which rather cloy than comfort: Let me entreat you to entreat no more.
RODERIGO. Let yon strings sleep; have done there.
KING OF VALENTIA. Mirth to a soul disturb'd is[181] embers turn'd, Which sudden gleam with molestation, But sooner lose their sight for it. 'Tis gold bestow'd upon a rioter, Which not relieves, but murders him: 'Tis a drug given to the healthful, Which infects, not cures. How can a father, that hath lost his son: A prince both wise, virtuous, and valiant, Take pleasure in the idle acts of time? No, no; till Mucedorus I shall see again, All joy is comfortless, all pleasure pain.
KING OF VALENTIA. I prythee, speak that thrice.
KING OF VALENTIA. O, where, Anselmo? surfeit me with that.
ANSELMO. In Arragon, my liege; and at his 'parture, [He] bound my secrecy by his affection's love, Not to disclose it. But care of him, and pity of your age, Makes my tongue blab what my breast vow'd-- Concealment.
KING OF VALENTIA. Thou not deceiv'st me? I ever thought thee What I find thee now, an upright, loyal man. But what desire or young-fed humour, nurs'd Within the brain, drew him so privately To Arragon?
ANSELMO. A forcing adamant: Love, mix'd with fear and doubtful jealousy: Whether report gilded a worthless trunk, Or Amadine deserved her high extolment.
KING OF VALENTIA. See our provision be in readiness, Collect us followers of the comeliest hue, For our chief guardians; we will thither wend. The crystal eyes of heaven shall not thrice wink, Nor the green flood six times his shoulders turn, Till we salute the Arragonian king. Music, speak loudly; now the season's apt, For former dolors are in pleasure wrapt.
MUCEDORUS. Now, Mucedorus, whither wilt thou go? Home to thy father to thy native soil, Or try some long abode within these woods? Well, I will hence depart, and hie me home. What, hie me home, said I? that may not be; In Amadine rests my felicity. Then, Mucedorus, do as thou didst decree: Attire thee hermit-like within these groves; Walk often to the beech, and view the well; Make settles there, and seat thyself thereon; And when thou feelest thyself to be athirst, Then drink a hearty draught to Amadine. No doubt, she thinks on thee, and will one day Come pledge thee at this well. Come, habit, thou art fit for me. [_He disguiseth himself_. No shepherd now: a hermit I must be. Methinks this fits me very well. Now must I learn to bear a walking-staff, And exercise some gravity withal.